


And She Spun

by NevillesGran



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 12:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7314817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NevillesGran/pseuds/NevillesGran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Queen Thief of Eddis danced on the rooftop, swaying to the music that floated up from the courtyard below.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And She Spun

The Queen Thief of Eddis danced on the rooftop, swaying to the music that floated up from the courtyard below. The sun had only just set but the moon was already high and full, and its light shone about her as she laughed and threw her hands in the air to clap with the dancers below. Her husband might wonder where his partner was, but more likely he was still haggling with the minister of finance over the army’s weaponry budget for the next year. On some other night she might have been interested in the discussion, or at least politely attentive—but tonight the light was soft, the music sprightly, and _someone_ needed to dance on the rooftops, or how else would the open sky know how much they welcomed its sweet summer weather, particularly for this celebration of the end of their young queen’s first year on the throne?

She spun and jumped as the notes flew around her, blown by the fresh evening wind. Even in high summer the rooftops of Eddis were cool in the dwindling dusk, but the Queen Thief had no need for a coat. A coat would only limit her ability to move.

She leapt and landed as gracefully as ever, beginning another turn. But this time, her foot hit a patch of dew already starting to form in the evening chill. Too startled to make a noise, she started sliding down.

The people of the Hephestial Mountains did not tend towards architects. The short, cool summers and long, freezing winters had never lent themselves to an appreciation of much art other than embroidery...and swordplay, of course. Buildings were meant to withstand the cold and winds; beauty was a secondary concern at best. The exception to the rule was the royal palace. While many had slanted roofs to shed snow, only the monarchs of Eddis could afford the number of gutter-cleaners required to excuse negating the effect with artfully curled edges.

The Queen Thief skidded down the sloped tiles until she reached the side. One foot swung out over the courtyard, a small cloister hidden in shadow that held no guests to see her. The other foot caught on the upturned rim of the roof and held her, balanced on the knife-edge.

“My God,” she whispered into the night. Half prayer, half plea, half argument. “I cannot die. Not now.”

The wind whispered back, _You are mortal. You can always die._

“No,” she said. “Not now. My father is old. My queen needs a Thief.” _And my children, and my husband_ , she added silently, but the gods did not care about such petty things.

“She will have a Thief.” It wasn’t the wind speaking now but a voice she thought she might have heard in a dream, or perhaps just recognized in her heart. It was laughter and fire, and her of her father teaching her to pick pockets for the first time. “But he must start now, or he may not be ready when the time comes.”

Scenes passed in front of her eyes, some long and some just a flash of an image, or a scrap of speech. She saw her father fall, saw her son—her youngest, her Eugenides—having it out with his father like they never had before. They both stormed off at the end, so alike in posture and expression. Next thing she knew, Gen was standing in the throne room, covered in dirt and blood, presenting a shining blue stone to Eddis, and nobody but her saw how its glow clung to him still. A blade flashed, and Gen was curled up in a cell, cradling an arm that ended in a wrist and crying to the gods. She saw queens and kings and armies, altars and guns and a great deal of falling—and standing again. She saw the mountain explode in flame.

“Oh,” she said softly, balanced on the edge of the palace roof. If she leaned backwards and sat down quickly enough, there was a chance she’d stay on. A slim chance, but she had taken slimmer. “Yes.”

She raised her head carefully and called out to the sky she knew wasn’t empty. “But not alone, you hear me? Help him. Guide him.” She thought back to her lessons she had given him, on reading and writing and balancing on a thin ledge. She smiled. “Even if he ignores you most of the time.”

A warm wind brushed against her dress, and somehow she knew the voice was smiling. “Of course.”

The Queen Thief of Eddis threw her hands up to the moonlight and spun and clapped once more to the music, and fell into the hands of her god.

 

**Author's Note:**

> (I just like to think she knew it was going to be okay.)


End file.
